Let the Games Begin
by 1HELLCAT
Summary: Tired of dead end jobs, Fred looks to get back into the cockpit and make a name for himself on Solaris VII. To the audience, it’s fun and games, to the MechWarriors, it’s life or death.
1. Chapter 1

MechWarrior: Let the Games Begin

Chapter 1

January 10, 3064

Amity

"Frankie! My Brother! I can't believe it's you!" A dark haired man exclaimed overjoyed, setting his duffel bag down. In his mid twenties, he had a sturdy build and bronze complexion owing to his years of working outdoors. His casual outfit suggested the same.

Frankie grumbled, standing in the doorway of his flat, but managed a fake smile. "Fred, it's you. What are you doing here?" He shot back. He was younger, but far more mature looking, and a little paler. Never the less, a strong family resemblance was present between the two men.

"Why, looking for you," Fred chuckled. "You don't know how many doors I knocked on 'til I found this one. _I_ don't even know how many doors I knocked on. But we agreed that we're brothers, and that-"

"That if we ever needed to help each other, we would," Frankie finished. "But I thought you were doing well selling cars, living on your own, settling down after your last job."

"Yeah, that was good and well, until someone burned the building down the pancake house next door."

Frankie just stared at him.

"It wasn't me!_ I_ know how to make pancakes."

"Right, that's why mom kept kicking you out of the kitchen," Frankie replied unconvinced.

"Hey, I thought high speed on the mixer meant it would finish faster." He pouted.

"Well, look-" Frankie was cut off.

"Honey, who is at the door?" a woman called out. Frankie's wife, Dianne walked up behind him, her red hair almost glowing like a fiery halo. Coming from a smaller world that most in the Inner Sphere, she was tall and thin, and in heels could look over her husband. "Oh, hello Fred, one moment please." She slammed the door on Fred, and a brief, muttered argument ensued behind it before it opened again. "Well, Frankie told me of your troubles, but you see, we're going on vacation, leaving tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? I see, well, you're going to need someone to house-sit, right? So, now that that's settled, where are you going?"

"Solaris," Frankie piped in. "I heard that—" He was cut off again, this time by Fred.

"Solaris?" Fred was surprised. Solaris VII, also known as the Game World, was a planet dedicated to gambling and BattleMech duels. It had grown from an industrial world where companies tested out their BattleMechs, to one of high life and entertainment with resorts, museums, and concert halls along with the phenomenon of Solaris Games.

"Yes, Fred, Solaris. I heard that they have a nice resort, and in case you forgot, our anniversary is coming up." He gave a light, but kind kiss on Dianne's cheek.

Fred didn't pay attention to his brother. He had other things on his mind. "They have a lot of BattleMechs on Solaris… I _need_ a BattleMech. Forget the house-sitting, I'm going with you."

Dianne shouted, "What?! No. There's no room for you with us."

"Besides," Frankie continued, "why do you want to go there for a 'Mech? More importantly, why do you _want_ a 'Mech?"

"Because I belong in one. I mean, why are you an accountant?"

"Because it's what I studied, and it's a stable, _safe _income." Unlike Fred, Frankie had no interest in BattleMechs. He was more interested in a simple life with few conflicts. To him, Fred was nothing but conflict. "And like Dianne said, you're not coming."

"Look, I don't want to go and screw up your anniversary. We'll just travel together, and once there, I'll be out of your hair and looking for work and a 'Mech."

"Fred, dear," Dianne started. "It's not that we don't understand or don't want to help you, it's just that this is our time." She hugged Frankie and kissed his cheek. "And so you simply can't go."

After realizing Fred wouldn't give, Frankie thought up a new plan. "Well… One moment, please," Frankie closed the door on Fred again, and more muffled arguing ensued, until the door opened up again. "You can come, but once we get there, you're on your own. Out of our hair. Looking for work. Okay?"

"Sure thing, brother. Once I get back into a BattleMech, I shouldn't need any more help."

* * *

January 21, 3064

Solaris VII

The trip to Solaris was uneventful. Frankie and Dianne left Fred on his own the second they stepped onto the DropShip. Their arrival was much the same, until it came to the games. Fred was a MechWarrior, a natural, but with a lot of quirks that shortened his career with the Alliance Military Corps. As the only one with experience around the 10-meter tall machines of war, his betting advice particularly interested Dianne.

The BattleMech games here, however, were nothing like the Alliance Military Corps, and nothing like standard combat. Here, things went by the rule of cool and ratings. It was not a thinking man's game, but more like the gladiatorial combat seen on ancient Terra, full of superstars and super upsets.

Despite this, the planet had what he did not: 'Mechs and money. Once he obtained both, he could figure out what to do with his future. At the moment, though, it was just a waiting game.

Fred gave a sigh as he watched the two light 'Mechs enter the arena. He figured that would be the closest he'd get to one for some time. He, his brother, and sister-in-law, sat amongst the cheering crowds in the Coliseum arena. The arena made the duels even more gladiatorial than any other on Solaris, with its Doric columns and archways arranged about the field. Although they were decorative, they could also be used for slight cover.

The first 'Mech to enter was a boxy chicken-walker type, known as a _Flea_,painted silver with two long black stripes down its back. The average person would think nothing of this 'Mech because of its simple design and light weight, but in the right hands it could be a nimble and deadly fighter. Armed with forward and rearward firing medium and small lasers, and a flamer, it wasn't a bad 'Mech in the least bit.

The second 'Mech was the heavier _Wolfhound_. The all-black 'Mech was humanoid in design except for its dog-like head. The cockpit glass that doubled as the 'Mech's eyes, had a blood red tint. As it walked onto the field, it waved its sole hand to the crowd in parade fashion. In place of a right hand, it was armed with an extended range large laser. Backing the large laser up was a trio of medium lasers in its chest, and a another one in its back.

With the sound of the starting horn, the battle commenced. The _Flea_ was first off the mark as it darted behind the arches for cover. The _Wolfhound's _ER large laser scared the arches, but missed the boxy 'Mech. Unlike the _Flea_, the _Wolfhound_ stepped slow and cautiously into the battle. The pilot didn't want to spoil his aim. The _Flea _did, and continued its fast weaving through the arches, closing the distance between the two 'Mechs.

Once it lined up an angle on the _Wolfhound,_ the _Flea_ engaged its MASC and excited the 'Mech's artificial muscles. It charged at its foe firing both its medium lasers. The ruby bolts seared and melted the _Wolfhound's_ metal flesh from its shoulder. The _Wolfhound_ pilot fired its trio of medium lasers in retaliation, staggering them to keep from overheating his 'Mech. The lasers just glanced over the top of the boxy 'Mech, singing the armor, but not much else.

As the _Flea _passed the humanoid 'Mech, it scored two more hits with its rearward small lasers. The _Wolfhound_ only managed a token reply with its own rear laser, doing nothing more than digging a hole into the dirt.

The _Wolfhound _turned and gave chase after the _Flea_. The _Flea_ had to shut off the MASC system that gave it its speed advantage earlier to prevent damage, and had to allow the _Wolfhound_ catch up. Another glancing blow from the _Wolfhound_ convinced the _Flea_ pilot to make a turn through the closest archway.

The _Wolfhound_ stayed close behind the _Flea_, which gave only sporadic shots with its rear lasers, more to scare the pilot than to defeat him. The high speed chase through the archways and around columns made it difficult for either pilot to hit the other.

Initially Fred thought the pilot of the _Flea_ to be an amateur, but he could see what the pilot was trying to do. Fred could tell that the _Wolfhound_ pilot was getting annoyed, and began firing his shots closer together, giving less time to cool down.

The _Flea_ engaged its MASC again to put some distance between the two 'Mechs. Tired of these games, the _Wolfhound_ fired its large laser, sending an emerald bolt into the _Flea's_ right leg, melting away armor and digging into its structure. The _Flea_ wobbled. It was now or never for it. Pivoting on its good leg, it faced the charging _Wolfhound_ and fired its flamer, setting the taller 'Mech ablaze as the two collided. The _Flea_ fell onto its back and caught fire from the gas spewing out of its flamer. The fiery _Wolfhound_ toppled over and landed on its face behind the _Flea_.

The crowds cheered loudly for the match to continue. Struggling to get up, the _Flea_ responded to the cheering first. It swung its arms back and fired its medium lasers into the _Wolfhound_, melting through the back armor and giving access for the flames. The _Wolfhound_ then rolled onto its back, smothering some of the flames, and returned with one of its medium lasers. However, it was simply too hot for a full barrage. Standing up, it displayed the dirt and scars from its tumble to the audience, and then approached the struggling _Flea_. Still on fire, the _Wolfhound_ couldn't fire anymore of its lasers, and instead made advantage of a weapon that the _Flea_ did not have. Quickly it swung its one fist into the boxy 'Mech, and a again, denting and smashing the armor before giving it a swift kick. The _Flea_ stopped struggling and a siren sounded, signaling the end of the match.

Fred relaxed and did some mental math on the wager he had placed earlier. That was his shaky plan to win enough money to purchase a 'Mech, and get started on a new life. After watching this match, he decided that whatever 'Mech he got had better be a safe one that wouldn't shake him around too much in the cockpit.

Fred set aside his concerns and cheered with the rest of the crowd. The fight had netted him more money for his cause, and more money for Dianne, who gave Fred a phony smile.

"That was a terrific match," she lied, "wasn't it, Frankie?" She wasn't interested in the destruction on the field or the pilots being tossed around the cockpits of the 'Mechs, just the money Fred's tip had won her.

Frankie was only slightly more interested in the fighting going on. He didn't care much about the 'Mechs, and could never be able to name them, but he was entertained by their actions none the less.

"Oh yes, definitely," Frankie replied, waiting on his wife. "That ice-box shaped 'Mech could really run. It really surprised me."

"Oh, that was its MASC," Fred explained.

Frankie and Dianne gave him a blank look. Fred had to remind himself that they knew nothing of BattleMechs except that the machines were big and destructive.

"Myomer Accelerator Signal Circuit. Ya know how the Myomers on a 'Mech are like muscles? MASC makes the muscles work faster."

Frankie smiled and nodded. "Oh. That makes sense. Well, anyway, let's get out of here."

Fred lead the way out of the arena, managing to worm through the large crowds that poured out into the streets. He was half hoping to lose his brother and sister-in-law, but they had kept up with him.

"Dianne and I are going to cash our wager tickets and head to the Concert Hall," Frankie told him, hailing a cab. "We'll be seeing you later." The cab pulled up and Dianne climbed in quickly, but Fred pulled Frankie aside for a moment.

"Look, Frankie, I know this is your vacation, but I might need to borrow some extra cash…"

Frankie frowned. "You still haven't paid me back from last time."

"I know, but if I can get a 'Mech, I can enter the matches and win the money for you," Fred sighed. "This has become more challenging than I thought."

"It sure has," he sighed. "I guess, if you need something extra, I'll lend it to you. But that's no guarantee, okay?"

Fred smiled and pat his brother on the back. "Thanks bro, you're a real life saver."

"Sure, yeah. Now, if you don't mind," he nodded his head towards the waiting cab.

"Right, have a good time." Just as Fred wave goodbye, the cab was off.

With that, he turned and started down the street. Before he could get lost in thought over his situation, he noticed the weather was taking a turn for the worse and decided a good shelter would soon be necessary.


	2. Chapter 2

_Notes: I apologize for taking so long to get this chapter posted. I'm glad that so far everyone has enjoyed the story. Kat has allowed me to post my chapter today while we finish up the next chapter of Black Wolf: Fortuna. I know it's not the same, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.  
_

Chapter 2

January 21, 3064

Solaris VII

The famous storms of Solaris finally caught up to Fred while he was still a few blocks from his hotel in the international district of Solaris City. He went ahead and made the best of his situation, and darted into the nearest building: the city's BattleMech museum. At this time of day, there were fewer visitors, making it a more relaxing place. As he passed through the turnstile, one of the museum's greatest pieces, the upper torso and head of the _Mackie_ BattleMech greeted him.

The large cylindrical 'Mech was deprived of its arms, but was otherwise in good shape. The fact that the museum had this much of the 625 year-old 'Mech left Fred in awe. It was the first BattleMech design, and when it entered action, it put fear into the troops that faced it.

A pair of stairs wrapped up the sides of the torso and met behind the head of the 'Mech. The back of the head was open to allow visitors to peer inside the antiquated cockpit. The average guest would probably find it only mildly interesting. MechWarriors however, would become more appreciative of their modern cockpits.

As Fred moved on, he was amused to see some kids trying to put on a display neurohelmet. The bulky neurohelmet came from the _Mackie_ and looked more like something a deep-sea diver would wear rather than a soldier. The neurohelmets were key to the use of BattleMechs. It helped keep the 'Mech upright while maneuvering by using the pilot's sense of balance.

He scoffed as he passed an exhibit that supposedly had a part of Kerensky's famed _Orion__,_ and continued wandering through the museum. Eventually, Fred found a series of round white pods. They were BattleMech simulators—not too different from what he used when he trained. Eagerly, he climbed in and found that the cockpit had a very basic setup. The neurohelmet was simple in looks, but much more advanced and lighter than the museum piece he saw earlier. Because it was a designed more for entertainment than training, it allowed even those with balance issues to pilot the virtual 'Mech.

When the pod came to life, a set of options appeared on screen, from piloting difficulty to choice of 'Mech. Thinking back to his days in the AMC, he decided to pilot the familiar _Clint_ medium 'Mech. Fast, maneuverable, but thinly armored, it was a decent medium 'Mech. It was an older design, and like most older 'Mechs it had a humanoid form.

After selecting his ride, the desert canyon arena loaded on screen. Before the match started, however, a message came up on screen requesting a duel. The only information on the opponent was the call sign 'Hunter' and that they piloted a 40-ton medium. '_Well, this will be better than fighting bots…'_ Fred grinned at the thought of testing his skills against a real person, especially after being out of a 'Mech for so long.

When the match finally began, Fred's _Clint _spawned on the lower, open end of the arena. Quickly but cautiously, he moved his 'Mech from the open terrain into the canyon for cover. The rock formations made it hard for him to find the opposing 'Mech, though.

'_If I'm having trouble getting through here, I'm sure he is, too…' _Fred thought to himself. The human-shaped 'Mech started up a path along the side of the canyon, trying to find a vantage point over the arena. The pod rocked softly to simulate the feeling of the 'Mech's movements.

Once on top, Fred's position was raked with missile fire from an LRM-5. Two of the missiles slammed into his chest, daring to pierce the armor. Immediately, the assailant jumped from its position, spoiling Fred's laser fire. Fred couldn't identify the 'Mech while it was in mid-jump, but he managed to score a hit with the 80 mm AC/5 in his 'Mech's right arm. The enemy 'Mech was forced to the ground in the canyon by another barrage of Fred's lasers.

In pursuit, Fred pressed down on the pedals, igniting the _Clint's _jump jets, vaulting him into the air and back into the canyon. The temperature in the cockpit rose slightly as the super-heated air firing out of his jets brought him safely to the ground. After he landed, he saw the back of the attacking 'Mech flee into the light cover of rock and small trees. He could see that although it had a human form like his, its head was sunk into its torso and it had a large antenna sticking out of the back of its head. It was an _Assassin_ BattleMech, and it was travelling faster than Fred's _Clint _could at top speed.

Using his jump jets, he vaulted over obscuring rocks and trees, and landed behind the _Assassin_. To Fred's surprise, the _Assassin_ twisted and punched the _Clint_ in the chest, denting its weakened armor. A pair of SRMs from the _Assassin_ exploded over the leg of Fred's 'Mech, soon followed by a ruby spear from the _Assassin's_ right arm that melted away the remaining armor. The beam left an ugly gash, exposing and damaging the pale myomer muscles.

Fred backed up his 'Mech, sending his lasers into the _Assassin_, melting away chunks of armor off the enemy 'Mech. The _Assassin_ responded with another pair of SRMs, both of which crashed into a small tree, blasting it to fiery splinters.

The _Assassin_ charged after the _Clint_, about to punch, but Fred was able to catch the giant flying fist. Quickly, Fred sent his 'Mech's foot into the other's torso, smashing armor and shoving the other 'Mech back. The _Assassin_ turned and fled down the canyon again, disappearing around the rock formations and out of sight. Fred started after him, but the _Clint's_ leg damage slowed him down. The only thing he could do was jump after it.

Again, Fred pressed down on the pedals and moved the _Clint_ over the rock formation after the _Assassin_. Once he saw the 'Mech, he dropped down to cut it off. When he landed, however, his damaged leg buckled and the 'Mech toppled onto its back. Fred was tossed again in the cockpit, but quickly scrambled to try and get the 'Mech back up.

The _Assassin_ loomed over Fred and fired its laser and SRMs again, blasting open the _Clint's _chest cavity, exposing the internal structure of the 'Mech and the fusion heart encased within it. Fred panicked and fired off his own lasers, melting two holes into the _Assassin's_ chest and startling its pilot. Fred managed to get his 'Mech onto its feet, only to have the enemy 'Mech's fist slam into the head of his _Clint_. The force threw Fred back in his command couch. In response, he sent the good leg of his 'Mech into the hip of the _Assassin_, knocking it to the ground. Before the _Assassin_ could get back up, he shoved the _Clint's_ autocannon into one of the holes his lasers had made and fired. The large slugs ripped apart the internal structure and ignited the enemy's missiles. Fred moved his _Clint_ back on its jump jets to escape the ammo explosion that engulfed the _Assassin_.

Suddenly, the cockpit shut down and a score appeared on screen, after declaring him the winner. Fred had almost forgotten that this was just a game, and that his opponent was in a simulation pod nearby. Quickly, he unbuckled himself and set the helmet aside before climbing out of the pod. Looking around, he spotted someone else climbing out, as well. The man was tall, with sharp features and slicked back dirty blond hair. Once he saw Fred, he grinned and approached with his hand extended.

"That was quite the match, eh?" The man had a very good attitude even after his loss.

"Yeah. You're a very good pilot," Fred replied, shaking his hand.

"So are you. I haven't taken a beating like that in a long time." He chuckled. "Oh, where are my manners, the name's Gregori Wolf." He kept Fred's hand captive in a tight handshake.

"Wolf, huh? You're not a Dragoon, are you?" Fred chuckled with him. "I'm Fernando Acosta." He freed his hand and shook some life back to it.

"Nah, I'm not a Dragoon. Just a Free Worlder, working for the Fitzhugh Stable. And you, Fernando?"

"Just a bum looking for work after being out of a 'Mech for too long." Fred rubbed the back of his head. "I've forgotten how rough it is to be in one. Oh, and I go by Fred."

"Sorry about that. But hey, this is Solaris."

"I've forgotten about that, too…" Fred replied.

Gregori patted Fred on the back and guided him out of the museum.

"Here, let me buy you a victory drink. I know a great bar."

* * *

The great bar Gregori was talking about was in a rundown little building with a bright yellow neon sign above the door, giving its name as "The _Flea's_ Hideout" and the outline of its namesake. "The _Flea's_ Hideout" looked much better on the inside, than the outside, with old but well maintained wooden tables, chairs, and bar. Fred looked around curiously and noticed there were few patrons at this time, but he found that what was great about the bar was its décor. The walls were covered with pictures of 'Mechs fighting in various arenas and environments. Many of the 'Mechs featured were _Fleas_ of different configurations, matching the bar's theme. Along with _Fleas_, there were several other older designs that caught Fred's eye as he moved through the bar, such as the yellow, faded diagrams of the _Centurion_ and _Trebuchet_ 'Mechs. The 'Mechs were designed for each other, so it was only natural to pair them up on the wall. Fred had always been a fan of the _Centurion_.

The men sat down at the bar, immediately starting on the bowl of mixed nuts, and Gregori signaled the bartender for two drinks. The large, bald man bent over to get their glasses, and Fred saw that behind him was a painting of a _Kintaro__._ The 'Mech seemed to be strolling rather nonchalantly, as if it was about to whistle a tune. It amused him that there was such a nonthreatening painting behind the tough looking bartender.

"This is a nice place." Fred kept looking around. "It's like an art museum for 'Mechs."

"I can't say I've heard anyone call it that, but sure. So, how did you learn to pilot a 'Mech like that?"

"Well, my father was a MechWarrior. He inspired me to sign up and join the AMC."

Their drinks arrived, a pair of Koller beers, their refreshing amber color showing through the frosted glasses. Fred took a sip, but Gregori wanted to hear more from him.

"AMC? The Outworlds Alliance AMC? How'd you end up here, man?"

"I was… let go because of some of my… talents. I worked a few odd jobs, got tired of those, and wanted to get back into a 'Mech."

"Talents, huh?" Fred could tell Gregori was getting suspicious, as his eyes narrowed on him. "I'd imagine the Outworlds would keep any pilots with talent."

"Heh, well, I'm not just good at piloting a 'Mech. I was talented in pranking recruits… and finding trouble…"

Gregori's suspicious stare lightened up and he laughed, making Fred relax. "That's it? The Space-Amish don't have a sense of humor, do they?"

Fred laughed with him. "Well, they're not too keen on tomfoolery, especially when you convince the new recruits to paint the command office in 'dazzle' paint and to look for unobtainium to power their 'Mechs."

The two burst out laughing. When Gregori caught his breath, he patted Fred on the back. "That is too good. Ya know, my comrades would really like you. As a matter of fact, would you like to meet them?"

"Wait, don't tell me, they're all going to pop up from behind the bar, right?"

Gregori chuckled. "Not quite. But I mean it." With his other hand, Gregori produced a card from his pocket and slid to Fred. "Ya see, I'm not just a MechWarrior for Fitzhugh. I also work part-time as their recruiter. So, what do you say?"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

January 28, 3064

Solaris VII

A week had passed since Fred received the offer to join the Fitzhugh Stable. The offer was constantly on his mind. Although he would prefer to be independent and work with a sponsor, that simply was not realistic for a newcomer. A stable would give him a 'Mech, technicians, and a place to stay. They also paid MechWarriors just enough that they couldn't leave and work on their own.

His musings had distracted him all week. This distraction had proven costly when Dianne asked him who to bet on for the last match of the night. He had told her to pick a PPC armed _Uziel_ BattleMech to beat a _Blackjack_ OmniMech. The _Blackjack_ surprised him, however, by utilizing its own PPC and Ultra AC/10 to melt and shatter the thin armor of the faster Uziel.

The dimmed lights in "The MechWarrior" sports bar went up and the main holographic display vanished. The bar was another Solaris tourist trap, and it utilized the most sophisticated technology in entertainment. The booth seats they occupied were plush and overstuffed, ensuring that customers would not want to leave.

The design didn't work for Dianne, as she stormed away from the table. Frankie chased after her in an attempt to calm her down. This was the third match she that she lost. Fred watched as he waited for his brother to wrangle his upset wife back, but she just tore up the betting tickets and left the bar. Frankie followed close behind her, leaving Fred behind to pay their bill.

"I told you I'm sorry. I'm as new here as you are," Fred explained as he tried to catch up with his brother. "Look, I lost money on that fight, too. Frankie, come on, we're in this together, right?"

His brother stopped and started to turn before his wife caught him and spoke in her best attempt at a hushed voice, "Frankie, you said he's on his own here, now _mean it_. You've always told me how much trouble he's caused you. Just leave him... or I'll leave you." Dianne turned and continued walking.

Frankie looked at Fred sympathetically, and then at Dianne before giving his brother a shrug. Fred was shocked and confused, "What was that about?"

"Fred… Fernando, she's right. Okay? You've never paid back the money I've lent. You never listen to me. You never even listened to mother," he started. "You were kicked out of the Alliance Military Corps –"

"Hey, that wasn't my fault."

"No, it's never your fault, is it? And you're still not listening to me." He raised his hands as if to get support from some higher being, "You should stop with this, 'destined to be a MechWarrior' crap. Grow up, stop with these games, and get a real job. Sure, accounting's _boring_, but no one's at shooting me, and it puts food on the table."

Fred's anger boiled, "You act like joining the military was a bad thing. Father was a MechWarrior, and you know the AMC kept us safe back home. And mother—she liked you more, don't act that's not true—she was a fighter pilot, not some fool getting shot at."

"And you broke her heart by running off to be a MechWarrior. You don't get it, do you?"

"No, I get it," Fred pointed at his younger brother, scolding him, "you _don't_. Life is short. You have to look after your life and your loved ones', and you have to have a good time doing it. I joined the AMC for that, but they don't get it either. You need to understand that. But since you don't want anything to do with me, I'm off. Don't bother asking for any more favors."

"Favors? What favors? You've been nothing but trouble. You have always picked on me, not looked after me."

Fred shook his head. "Why do you think you got to go to university while I went into the AMC? Frankie, I could have gone to an academy, and you would've gone into the AMC or been stuck working at some fast food chain. You know our parents couldn't afford for both of us to go. So I joined the AMC to give you the chance to go off and do what you wanted. If I'd known you wanted to marry a dragon-lady and live in a tiny apartment, though, I would not have done that." Fred paused to let that sink in. He then continued, not allowing Frankie to speak. "I guess you're right though. You're _always_ right. I've never done any favors for you, and I've only been trouble to you. So, go on and leave me here, your dragon-lady awaits," he bowed toward Frankie and Dianne, and turned to walk away.

"Fred? Fernando!" Frankie called out, putting emphasis on his full name like a parent would with a disobedient child.

Fred ignored him, and with a quick wave of his hand to silence his brother, headed on his way.

* * *

Fred wandered around Solaris City, occasionally muttering about how ungrateful his brother was. After all, for all the teasing he did as a kid, he did keep the bullies off his brother. Now, he was an adult, separated from his family, and in need of a job.

A few drops of rain splattered on the ground in front of him followed by a roar of thunder. Fred threw his hands up in the air in frustration, and the sky responded with a shower.

"Damn it," he cursed, pulling his jacket over his head. "I bet Frankie is warm and dry with his dragon-lady, now." Fred had started to doubt himself, but he shook that out of his mind as he searched for a shelter from the storm. In the distance, the yellow glow of an old neon sign caught his attention. Jogging down the sidewalk toward his salvation, he couldn't help but grin as he saw the outline of a _Flea_ 'Mech on the sign.

"Destiny has a cruel sense of humor," he said quietly to himself as he walked into the bar.

Its interior seemed a lot warmer and more welcoming than he remembered, but a thunderstorm could do that to any shelter, he thought to himself. He noted that the place had a lot more patrons than last time, but also credited that to the storm, and took his seat at the bar. After settling down and ordering a light beer, he pulled out the business card Gregori handed him. The card was a brilliant purple, not unexpected from a Stable representing the Free World's League, but it had a snarling white tiger on it. Time was quickly running out, and he needed to make a decision. For now, though, he was going to enjoy his light beer. That was, until an ale appeared in front of him instead.

He was about to call the bartender back when a friendly voice from behind called out. "Cheers, Fred." He spun around to see his new friend, Gregori surrounded by unfamiliar faces.

"Come now," Gregori beckoned. "We have a seat open over here."

Fred didn't feel he had much of an option, and went ahead. Everyone around the table was in good shape, with the clear look of MechWarriors. As Fred sat down, he could feel himself shrink in their presence.

"Come on, sit up and enjoy your drink. That's Andurian's finest, you know." Gregori smiled encouragingly.

"Ah, thanks," Fred smiled back and took a sip. "Oh, that is good."

"Of course it is, I wouldn't be a good recruiter if I got you the cheap stuff like you were ordering," he chuckled.

"So, this is that new guy you've been trying to wrangle?" One of the warriors wearing a Free World's Militia jacket jeered. "You must've been on an off day, Gregori." He scrutinized Fred carefully, looking down his sharp nose.

"I assure you, I wasn't. I gave him my best," Gregori chuckled, "and he beat me fair and square in a sim pod."

"This kid? But didn't you say he's from the Outworlds?" the man continued.

"Now, now, Peter. Didn't you come from some backwaters planet?"

"Don't remind me," the man groaned. "So, what's someone from all the way out _there_, doing here?"

"Looking for trouble, it seems," Fred replied to his scrutinizer.

Peter smirked. "Well, I think you found it. I was just telling these guys how I took on a pair of _Cossacks,_ while my lance mate hunted down the _Raven_ that was jamming us. After I hit the ammo on one, I got in some hit-and-run fighting with the other. It kept jumping around like some annoying bug. Then it jumped into the cover of some trees, so I used my _Hermes' _flamer to burn it out. As it staggered out, it shut down from the heat." He grinned smugly, in anticipation of the others' praise.

"Oh, that sounds great and all, but I think I have a better one." Fred sat up and took a swig of his drink. "Since we're sharing 'who has been out numbered the most' stories, and all that." Fred smirked. "This goes back to my days in the AMC, when I piloted an old _Clint_. The weather was really poor one day, so they sent me on patrol instead of the usual wing of fighters." Fred leaned back in his chair, reminiscing and growing more confident of his story. "While on patrol I caught a glimpse of something on my magscan. It disappeared, then reappeared. Turned out, it was a lance of pirate light 'Mechs on their way to the local town. I called it in and they told me to shadow them, while they tried to scramble the available forces." He grinned, thinking up the next line. "So, you know what I did, right? Went right for them. Using the hills and trees for cover I managed to harass them from afar with my autocannon. I remember ripping the armor off the _Thorn_ first. Then a _Wasp_, or maybe it was a _Stinger_… Anyway, whatever it was, it turned and attacked, along with a _Mongoos__e_. Their _Mongoose_ kept getting too close, forcing me to jump from one cover to cover as I fired." Fred paused and sipped his beer. "When I got away from the _Mongoose_, the _Wasp_ started to bug me. So, I kicked its leg off and moved on. By then, all I could find was the _Mongoose_. We fought until I was out of ammo. By that time, it was out of commission." He took another sip as he wrapped up his story. "They later found the _Thorn_ at the bottom of a river. It's hard to cross water when you're full of holes." He chuckled.

"What about the fourth 'Mech?" Peter asked suspiciously. "You said it was a lance."

Fred sighed. "It turns out that the fourth 'Mech was a _Commando_. It left its comrades to fight, and continued into town. There it was said to have made off with a huge loot bag full of money and supplies. I got an ear full for that. And for all the laser damage my 'Mech took." He shrugged and leaned back in his chair, relaxing.

"Well," one of the MechWarriors started, "that was a good story. It's too bad we don't have any _Clints_ for you, but—"

He was cut off as an older man stormed into the bar. "That Bromley!" he shouted as he made his way to the table all the pilots were sitting. "They've stolen another prospective pilot from us." The man stopped and looked down at Fred. "Who's this?"

"That is Fernando Acosta, sir," Gregori replied. "Fernando, this is Mr. André Fitzhugh, Stablemaster."

Fred immediately stood to greet André.

"Mr. Acosta is looking for a job as a MechWarrior," Gregori continued. "He was just telling us of his escapades, and taking on entire lances by himself."

"A whole lance? We could use a pilot with that kind of moxie." André lightened up and shook Fred's hand. Peter sneered and slouched at the comment.

"So, when will you be performing our entrance trial? Stories are good and all, but we would like to see you in action. How about this weekend?"

Fred was taken aback. "Um, yeah, sure. Sounds good to me, Mr. Fitzhugh."

"Now, you better not disappoint. We need pilots that can teach Bromley a thing or two about piloting a 'Mech."

"I won't, sir." Fred smiled. '_With a crowd like this_,' Fred thought to himself, '_maybe a stable wouldn't be all that bad.'_


End file.
